A Mutant Revisited
by Nicholas Tessarolo
Summary: A new spin on an old story.


James began to wheeze and cough violently until he awoke. Fumbling, he siezed his inhaler and took a puff. As it became easier to breathe he opened brown eyes and took another puff off his inhaler.  
  
"James! It's time for breakfast honey! Hurry up or you're going to miss the bus!"  
  
He groaned as his mother gave the same announcement he'd heard everyday since starting high school. He hated riding the bus. Holding his inhaler as if it were a life-ring in a tossing sea, he forced himself to climb out from under the covers. His room was spotlessly immaculate, he hated clutter and clothes all over the floor like his two friends. They didn't ride the same bus as he did. It made the ride to school worse.  
  
He pulled on a pair of jeans and a white A-shirt, then put on a red flannel which he buttoned all the way up. He hated the a-shirt and the flannel. The a-shirt especially. It made him feel like an old man and everyone made fun of him about having to wear them. He had tried to ditch them, but his mother always seemed to find them and punish him for not wearring them.  
  
"James! Your breakfast is getting cold!" Growling to himself, he stuffed his inhaler in his pocket and forced himself to go downstairs. Cream of wheat, sugar when he asked for it, and a glass of orange juice. The combination still made him balk. The two didn't go well together at all. Beside the bowl was the neat rows of allergy medicine bottles he had to take each morning before he could leave the house.  
  
"I wish you would eat more, or atleast gain a little weight son," his father said from behind the paper. A blue wreath of pipe-smoke was curling above his head. He loved that smell like he loved his papa.  
  
"I know papa, but you know how hard I try..." James trailed off and his father lowered the paper and just smiled warmly at him around the stem of the red pipe, then winked.  
  
"Eat your breakfast James," his mother said. Sitting prim and proper on her chair on the side of the table between him and his papa. He began spooning the vile white paste into his mouth and chewing methodically.  
  
"They're talking war down in the States, Elizabeth," his papa said.  
  
"Well that doesn't concern us here," his mother replied. James watched as his father lowered the paper again and raised a skeptical bushy black eyebrow at her. His papa was a distinguished looking man, with dark wiry black hair that was now salt and peppered from age, with a solid jaw and a prominent nose. James liked the way his father looked, like a great big bear.  
  
"John, honey. You're going to be late for work," his mother said with a furtive glance at the clock.  
  
Chuckling, his father stood and kissed his mother's forehead. "Right you are love, right you are." He folded the paper and set it on the table at his place, and walked around his mother to ruffle his hair, "Now you be good today James. We don't want to be getting another call from the school about you and Rose and "Dog" getting into trouble again."  
  
James grinned and instantly got rid of it at the sharp look from his mother, "Yes papa."  
  
"Good," and he ruffled his hair again, hair he'd inherited from his father. James watched him go then returned to his breakfast. Once he had scrapped the bowl clean and run water into it, he returned to the table to begin taking his medicine.  
  
He'd inherited his retched allergies from his mother. She was a sickly woman, though strong despite it, who stayed in the house more often than not. His papa was always doting on her. James always had to smile at that. His papa was what he hoped to be like when he was older. He forced the pills down with gulps of orange juice. Glancing at the clock and then his mother, he scurried into the family room to grab his school bag.  
  
He was going to be late, and he would have to walk. He hated walking, especially now. Canadian winters weren't fun by any stretch. He grabbed his coat, shrugging it on as he dropped his schoolbag by the door. He pulled on his shoes and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before snatching his bag off the floor and practically flying out of the door.  
  
The bus was just pulling around the corner at his stop when he got there, and grudgingly climbed on board. A spit wad instantly hit him, splattering against the glass of his black-rimmed glasses. A sharp bark of reprimand from the bus driver didn't deter anyone though. He was harassed the entire length of the bus, constantly being denied a seat and being called names.  
  
"Where's your wand Harry Potter!"  
  
"Hey! Four eyes!"  
  
"You scrawny geek!"  
  
James scowled at the boy who shouted the last. He was a burly boy; broad of shoulders and chest, with a practical mane of blonde hair that framed his square face and lantern jaw. Ice blue eyes peered at him maliciously and his lips curled into a sneer. He called himself Sabretooth. The name just twisted his stomach more than anything else. Sabretooth's real name was Victor, Victor Creed. James thought that was a stupid name, but it was an opinion he would never admit to his face. Ignoring the goliath did nothing but draw his attention. James fervently wished today would be different.  
  
"Didn't you hear me you little creep?"  
  
Victor was suddenly looming over him. His head brushed the buses ceiling, he even had to hunker slightly. James' five-foot-three was nothing in comparison to Victor's six-foot-six.  
  
"I heard you Victor," and the air was suddenly shoved violently from his chest as he went flying toward the front of the bus. His school bag spilled open, emptying itself on the floor of the bus and Victor was squatting over him.  
  
"If you ever call me that again in public, wimp, I'll make sure I wipe my ass with your face next time I have to take a shit."  
  
The bus erupted into sudden howling mirth as James frantically searched for his glasses. Victor rose and pumped his arms, egging the crowd on. James finally found his glasses and planted them on his face, scowling at the bully's back. He began stuffing his things back into his bag, wishing away the whistles and jeers and the scarlet burning of his neck and cheeks as well as the tears that were pooling on his glasses. Sniffling, he sat hunched by the door, hugging his bag to his chest and praying that he had missed the bus that morning.  
  
(time lapse)  
  
"What's the matter James?" A pretty red haired and green eyed girl asked as he walked stiffly toward the school. He stopped short and looked at Rose. He couldn't help but smile. She was one of his only friends in the world.  
  
"Nothing Rose," James said. Wiping his nose with a tissue she proferred, he looked around. "Where's Dog?"  
  
"Thomas missed the bus," Rose said with a sharp cluck of her tongue. Her tone had reminded James of his mother briefly. Victor and his gang wandered past being louder than they needed to be. A massive hand came out of nowhere and smacked James across the back of his head. His glasses almost flew from his face, but he managed to catch them.  
  
"Remember what I told you, pussy!" Victor said to much adoration from his gang.  
  
Rose opened her mouth as if to say something but James put a hand on her arm, "Rose, don't. It'll only complicate things."  
  
She closed her mouth with a click of teeth, but she glared daggers after Victor, "It's not right James. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it."  
  
"His father owns half the town and the school besides." James shrugged, non-confrontationally, "its just life Rose."  
  
She merely sniffed.  
  
They waited by the stairs for Thomas "Dog" Logan. James had met him three years ago and they had become best friends. Rose moved into town the following year and she had been the one who gave him the nickname, Dog, because he could smell trouble that needed to be made a mile away. She said she tagged along to make sure they didn't kill themselves, but James suspected there was more to it than that. He would have put money on her liking the adventure.  
  
An old black station wagon pulled up and Dog practically rolled out of it, shouting a, "Thanks Dad!" over his shoulder as he raced toward them.  
  
"You'll never guess what happened this morning!" He ran up, breathlessly speaking. James looked at him eagerly while Rose merely arched a red brow. "The plant caught fire last night and police are swarming all over the place!  
  
"And you find this exciting?"  
  
"Don't you?" Dog nearly shouted.  
  
"Was anyone hurt?" Rose asked and Dog rolled his eyes. Dog was about four inches taller than he and Rose, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. His hair never wanted to go anywhere but everywhere and he was as wiry as he was. James grinned then furrowed dark brows.  
  
"So that's what that smell was this morning that caused my asthma fit," James said softly, but not softly enough that Rose and Dog didn't hear.  
  
"What smell?" They asked simultaneously.  
  
"That smell," James pointed vaguely at the air. "The one that's coming from the plant. I smelled smoke; burning plastic...it was so acidic I could almost taste it. It gave my lungs a time." James suddenly realized they were looking at him with identical expressions, "What?"  
  
"How could you have smelled that James?" Rose asked with a slight tremor.  
  
"Yeah, bub, it was last night and the fire teams got there in time to watch it burn, but still...all I smelled as cold this morning James." Dog was looking at him strangely and it made him uncomfortable.  
  
"Maybe the wind caught it just right or something," James said. Shrugging his shoulders as if trying to put someone's hands off him. "Come on, we're going to be late." James turned and several seconds passed before Rose and Dog caught up with him.  
  
"If you're not careful bub, she's going to start calling you Dog instead of me," Dog tossed him a roguish grin, which James returned.  
  
Rose snorted, "When you two are finished being little boys, maybe we can get back to the matter at hand."  
  
"Which is?" He and Dog both asked in unison. They knew that unnerved her for some reason.  
  
"The fire, duh!" Rose rolled her eyes and continued, "What happened really?"  
  
"The police haven't ruled out arson yet," Dog said with a thoughtful tone.  
  
"That's one of Creed Enterprises," James said suddenly and looked at them both. "He wouldn't...would he?"  
  
"Victor Creed has never been short of ruthless," Dog said with a grunt. "Sometimes I think that's why he named his son after him, so he'd have a leg already in the cruelty truck."  
  
Rose sniffed again, "But he would be underhanded enough to have someone set fire to one of his own companies."  
  
"Someone?" Dog asked and James looked at her questioningly.  
  
"Well of course, he would have to have clean hands to get away with the insurance fraud." She looked at them both and groaned, "Sometimes I swear, boys are just thick."  
  
"Then why do you hang around us?" Dog asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes. James laughed as Rose threw her hands in the air.  
  
(time lapse)  
  
He and Dog met her outside her chemistry class and together they made their way toward the cafeteria. James could smell what was coming from the cafeteria over all the smells of sweat and cleaner, "For once, I wish I didn't have to bring my own lunch." He said as his stomach groaned in protest.  
  
"What? Why?" Dog asked as he tossed his bag into his locker that he shared with James. That was in name only. James never used it. He carried everything he needed for school on his back. Besides, Dog's locker was a total sty and James wouldn't have been able to use it even if he tried. Rose arched her brow.  
  
"Because it actually smells good for once. I'm really not looking forward to another peanut butter and jelly sandwich." They were looking at him funny again, "What!"  
  
"Bub, how can you smell anything? All I smell is, oh hell I don't even want to know." Dog said as he peered at the bottom of his locker in disgust.  
  
"Thomas is right. The only smell here is his locker, and school. The cafeteria is on the other side of the school."  
  
James suddenly felt uneasy, "You...you can't smell the roast beef and gravy?"  
  
"Nope," Rose replied.  
  
"Sorry bub," Dog answered.  
  
"What about the steamed baby carrots and broccoli?" Identical headshakes and James didn't even bother to asked about the baked potatoes. His knees suddenly felt weak and he must have gone pale because Rose's hand was immediately on his forehead.  
  
"What's the matter? Are you alright James?" "James?"  
  
He had to look horrible if Dog wasn't calling him bub, "I just...I think I need to sit down." They led him to the library and Rose scurried out, saying she was going to get the nurse.  
  
Dog sat in the cushy red chair across from him and looked at him in that tilted head manner that he had started mimicking after he realized he liked the nickname Dog, "Are you feeling alright James?"  
  
"Yeah, fine, I think." James shook his head as if to clear it, but it didn't get rid of the smell. Old books, carpet shampoo, feint rubber from where countless sneakers had tread over the dense orange carpet fiber. Over it all was the smell of the food from the cafeteria and his own lunch in the brown bag before him on the square table littered with magazine. "What's happening to me Dog?"  
  
"I don't know bub, you have to tell me."  
  
James studied his friend for a long time. He opened his mouth to speak when there was a loud bang. It made him cry out and clutch hands over his ears. He glanced at Dog who wasn't covering his ears, but was looking at him very concerned as Rose came into view with the school nurse in tow. Tentatively, James took his hands away from his ears and was assaulted with sounds beyond the walls. He could hear the din of voices and the sounds of footsteps. It, with the smells, was almost maddening and he shut his eyes tight, huddled over his knees. The nurse and Dog helped/practically carried him to her office and laid him down on the cot in one of the small rooms. Rose and Dog wanted to bring in chairs and wait with him, but the nurse shooed them away. With sympathetic glances, they took as long as they could to leave.  
  
James lay there, trying to make the smells and the sounds go away but they wouldn't. The nurse shoved a thermometer in his mouth, and took his temperature. She took his blood pressure, checked his pupils, and just generally looked at him for a long time. He let her go about her job without complaint, all the while trying to will away these newfound senses. He was only vaguely aware of the nurse telling him she was going to call his mother, and he telling her it was pointless because his mother couldn't leave the house. When the nurse left, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep.  
  
(time lapse)  
  
He woke up several hours later with his papa seated across the room in a chair. James suddenly felt terrible. Had he pulled his father out of work early? He started to sit up but his father was there, pressing him back against the cot.  
  
"Don't worry son, once the nurse says its ok, I'm taking you home." His papa smiled down at him and James smiled back weakly. He realized then that his senses were back to normal for the most part. He could still hear things around him, but they were dulled. The smells were there too, but they were muted somehow. When he focused on one in particular, it flared into his nostrils. When he pushed it aside, it joined the mass of other smells that wanted to be tested. He didn't understand, but the light seemed more vivid. He had remembered a rather dark room before, lit by a single lamp. Now it was as if it were lit by an overhead light with more than one bulb. Colors seemed more colorful, and he could pick out single hairs on his papa's head and beard. James shivered slightly as the nurse arrived to begin poking and prodding him. She told his papa that he should be taken to a doctor as soon as humanly possible and said he could go. He found Rose and Dog waiting outside.  
  
The school was empty, as was the bus parking. His papa offered his friends a ride home which neither wanted to accept right away. They were looking at him as if he were going to break apart any instant and not for the first time, he hated the frailty he had gotten from his mother. He hated the allergies, and the poor eyesight. He hated the asthma, and the scrawny physique. The pale skin, and the brittle bones; he hated himself for what he must be putting his friends through. No one spoke much, even his papa. Once Dog and Rose were at home, his papa looked at him sideways from the drivers side as they started the short trip home.  
  
"What happened son?"  
  
James hesitated.  
  
"You can tell me James. I'm not going to get angry."  
  
"Papa...I," the words caught and he swallowed. "Papa, I think there's something wrong with me."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"The fire last night, at the plant. I could smell the residue on the air. It's what gave me the attack this morning. The acrid smoke in the air, and that horrible smell of burned plastics and rubber. And at lunch...I could smell the food in the cafeteria from the other side of the school. Then in the library, even through those thick walls I could hear what was going on in the halls as if I was standing in the halls, not on the other side of nearly soundproof library walls!" It had all come out in a rush once he had started it and the last came out with a near shout.  
  
His father didn't say anything for a long time. The closer they got to home, each turn they made, caused him more and more fear. What was going to happen? What was his papa going to do? His mother? They had turned down their street before his papa finally said anything. "Don't tell your mother just yet, James." As they pulled into the driveway, and his papa put the car in park James stared at the house as if it were prison. His papa turned in the seat to look at him with a kind smile, "I always knew you were special James. I always said it. I always told your mother you were different. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. No matter what happens son, I will always be on your side. Understand?"  
  
It took a second for what his father said to sink in completely and once it had, he threw his skinny arms around the robust form of his father and hugged him as if he never wanted to let go.  
  
"Come on James. Your mother will be expecting us. Don't tell her anything more than she needs to know, understand?"  
  
"I do papa," James said.  
  
"Good," and his papa pushed open the car door and started toward the house with James in tow.  
  
(time lapse)  
  
Later that evening, Rose called to see if he was feeling better and wanted to know what was going on.  
  
"I can't talk now Rose, I have homework. I'll explain it all tomorrow morning, ok?" He hoped she understood since his mother was sitting in the living room adjacent to the kitchen on the couch knitting. She had frowned on him getting a phonecall at that hour but had allowed it after what had happened earlier in school. "Tell Dog the same ok Rose?"  
  
"Fine, but this better be a good explanation James. Thomas and I want nothing less!" James smiled, "I promise Rose."  
  
"Good. See you tomorrow James."  
  
"See you," and he hung up before she could say more. Turning his attention back to his homework he began fussing with an algebra equation that he was finding difficult to focus on. He'd been testing out his new...abilities all evening. Listening for when his mother shifted on the couch, or his father moved around upstairs; the soft clicking of the needles, and even the sound of his father muttering at the television about the apparent war that was threatening to erupt. He heard snatches of a reporter calling it another possible World War if the United States didn't back off it's interest in the Middle East. He knew his friends blamed it on oil, but James wasn't so sure. He thought there was more to it than the sole remaining superpower meddling in affairs of other nation states just for the sake of better gas prices. 


End file.
